


Still More 20 Questions: Shameless Morning Fluff

by jdrush



Series: 20 Questions [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dialog Only, Fluff, Humor, M/M, with minor stage directions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: B & B, 221B style.  Yet another chapter in my “20 Questions” series.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: 20 Questions [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/766887
Kudos: 15





	Still More 20 Questions: Shameless Morning Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: These boys belong to Moffat and Gatiss, BBC1, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No betas were harmed in the making of this fic. All mistakes are mine.  
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm currently in the process of uploading some of my old stories to AO3. I thought I had done all my '20 Questions' fics, but I found this one lurking in a backup folder.

*kiss on cheek* “Morning, Sunshine.”

*mutters into pillow* “Go ‘way.“

“C’mon, love. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.” 

*burrows into blankets* “Urgh--what time is it?”

“Time for good little detectives to get up and greet the day.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Stop dawdling, Sherlock. Lestrade’s waiting for us down at the Yard.”

“Don’t care.”

“Do we have to do this every morning?”

“It’s not every morning.”

“Close enough.”

“We wouldn’t have a problem if you’d just leave me alone.”

“And deal with one of your strops because you overslept? Yeah, not likely.”

“I don’t have strops.”

“You’re having one right now.”

“Well, you should have let me sleep.” *finally notices tray John is carrying* “What’s that?”

“What does it look like?”

“Breakfast. On a tray.”

“Those deductive skills of yours just keep astonishing me.”

“I’m in bed.”

“I know.”

“You’re bringing me breakfast in bed?”

“So it would seem.”

“I’m on a case.”

“Not unless Greg solves it first, which just might happen if you don‘t get a wiggle on.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Of course you would, just to see how long it’d take you to pass out.”

“Four minutes and 27 seconds.”

“Case or boredom?”

“Bored.”

“Naturally.”

*eyes tray suspiciously* “You know I don’t eat when I’m on a case.”

“You don’t sleep during cases either, and yet, here you are.“

“That's only because you threatened to withdraw all sexual favours until the end of recorded time if I didn’t have a lie-down.”

“And it worked. Go me.”

“Food makes my brain sluggish.”

“So does arguing about it, but that doesn‘t seem to stop you.”

“There’s no time to eat.”

“There’s always time for a bit of brekkie.”

“But you just said Lestrade is waiting for us.”

“And he is.”

*starts to rise out of bed* “Then I should start getting ready. . .”

*John blocks his way* “You’re not getting out of that bed until you eat something.”

“I ate lunch Tuesday.”

“And now it‘s Thursday morning. I assume you can see the problem here.”

“You should never assume, John. I would think you’d know that by now.”

“And I would think you’d understand the correlation between fuel and energy.”

“You stick to blogging and leave the chemistry to me.”

“I don’t know why I bother.”

“Nor do I.”

“Did it ever once occur to you, with your massive brain, that you waste more time fighting me on this than if you actually just ate regular meals?”

“I’m watching my lissome figure.”

“I can handle that job for you.”

*smirk * “Naughty, Doctor Watson.”

*holding out the tray hopefully* “Seriously, Sherlock--just a few bites. That’s all I’m asking.”

“This obsession of yours with my caloric intake is rather unhealthy.”

“As opposed to your crackpot brain-stimulating starvation diet. Got it.”

“It’s a perfectly sound theory. The medical community just hasn’t caught up to my advanced. . .”

*drops tray on Sherlock‘s lap* “Just eat something, dammit!”

“Why?”

“I thought we just went over all that a few seconds ago. For about the thousandth time.”

“No. I mean, why are you bringing me breakfast in bed? It's not my birthday.”

“Nope.”

“Or Christmas.”

“Not according to the calendar.”

“Or our anniversary.”

*snorts* “As if you’d remember that anyway.”

“Did Mycroft fall off the diet-wagon again?”

“Funny, but no.”

“Anderson finally found his arse with both hands?”

*snickers * “That’s more unlikely than you remembering our anniversary.”

“March.”

“May, but thanks for playing.” 

“I knew it began with ‘M’.”

“Well done, you.”

“Is it the quasquicentennial of Jack the Ripper’s first kill?”

“Why would I bring you breakfast in bed for THAT?”

“To celebrate one of the great unsolved mysteries of all time, of course.” *notices John’s disapproving look* “Bit not good?”

“Sometimes your funny little brain scares me, Sherlock.”

“Only sometimes? I must try harder.”

“Really not necessary. I'm good.”

“So, it’s not a special day, yet you brought me breakfast in bed.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“That makes no sense.”

“There doesn’t always have to be a reason, Sherlock.”

“Of course there does! Otherwise the universe would collapse into total chaos.”

“Yeah, I’d buy that, if I believed for one second you knew bugger-all about the universe.”

“I know it exists.”

*ruffles curls* “Such a clever boy.”

*pouts* “Not so clever. I haven’t been able to determine why you brought me breakfast in bed.”

“Maybe it’s just because I love you, you annoying tit.”

*smiles* “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I figured you knew.”

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.”

“You hate when I repeat things.”

“Not that.” *pulls back blankets* “Get in and join me.”

“Will that get you to eat something?”

“Perhaps.”

*Herculean-sized sigh* “Fine. Whatever it takes.” *crawls back into bed* “This better?”

“Much.” *cuddles close* “A mug of tea, a bacon butty, and thou. What more could I ask for?”

“A locked-room murder and a cunning serial killer.”

*grins broadly* “You know me so well.”

“And I haven‘t run off screaming in the night. Go figure.”

*munching on sandwich* “Admit it--your life would be terminally dull without me.”

*kiss on lips* “That it would, love. That it would.”

THE END


End file.
